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Ronden is a dragon who likes a few cookies now and then, but he might get more than he bargained for in a prank-gone-wrong. The relatively slender dragon is about to find out that sometimes sugar and dough can put more than a little weight on your hips.
Silly short story featuring magic and a sorely-underused OC
Ronden wasn’t a huge fan of sweets. Still, the extra cookie on the counter of the break room tempted him. When was the last time he’d had a cookie? The blue dragon honestly didn’t know, although he remembered enjoying them more than other baked goods. He eyed the cookie and wondered if maybe he deserved to treat himself. He’d been working so hard lately, surely a snack wouldn’t hurt?
The lithe dragon went over to the plate where it had been forgotten, the rest of the surface covered in crumbs where other cookies once lay waiting to be eaten. Why had this one been left behind? He wondered if he should be suspicious, but couldn’t think of any reason to be suspicious of a cookie. All he could think was that maybe it was stale? It looked perfectly normal to him. He took a bite, the gooey chocolate chips accentuating the sweetness. He felt a small smile on his muzzle as he ran his tongue over the flavor lingering on his teeth.
It was only a minute or two later that his stomach gurgled, although he didn’t feel particularly hungry. He put his paws over the pale stripe on his slender midsection in confusion.
The door to the break room suddenly opened. Another dragon strolled in, covered in dark gray scales, his head topped by jagged black horns. He looked over casually. “Hey, Ronden.”
The corner of Ronden’s mouth quirked up. “Hey Rangavar.” Before he could say anything more, though, his stomach let out another loud gurgle.
Rangavar snorted. “Did you forget your lunch again?” He casually took a seat at the same table where Ronden was sitting. He didn’t seem to have his own lunch, but often the employees just took breaks whenever they got the chance.
“Yeah…” Ronden said, staring at his midsection uncertainly. Even though he hadn’t eaten anything, he realized that he was beginning to feel a bit bloated. His tum seemed a little swollen. That cookie didn’t seem to be agreeing with him.
Rangavar finally took notice of Ronden’s attention on his midsection, and frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t feel very good,” Ronden said vaguely. He didn’t exactly feel bad, though, either. Just that something was off.
“Sounds like an excuse to go home early,” Rangavar smirked. His smile faded though as he continued to watch Ronden’s midsection. “Are… are you actually okay?”
Ronden didn’t know how to respond. He put his paws on his belly, which he could now tell was definitely swollen, not just in his imagination. His fingers sank in slightly, though; it wasn’t firm like he was stuffed. Instead, when he pressed down, the scaly flesh gave way easily. After inspecting himself a moment, he suddenly picked up his paws, noticing that they seemed a bit puffier as well. His usually-slender fingers were thicker than they had been several minutes ago. “What’s going on?” he stammered.
Rangavar peered at him curiously. “If you feel sick, you actually should go home.”
“No, I feel—I feel fine.” It was technically true; he wasn’t in any discomfort. “But I’m blimping up!” He gripped at his flat midsection again, only to feel that it definitely wasn’t flat now. A layer of squish had expanded over it. He realized it wasn’t just his belly, though. Looking past it at his thighs, they seemed a bit wider than they were before, and more of his rump appeared to be covering the chair. It was like he was getting fatter, somehow. Not that that made any sense.
Rangavar seemed to notice the outward effects for the first time, his eyes roving over Ronden’s slowly expanding body. Instead of curious, though, he immediately looked alarmed. “What did you eat?!”
Ronden paused for a moment. It hadn’t been the question he was expecting. He couldn’t concentrate as he was distracted by a strange feeling creeping across his lap, though, and looked down to see that enough of a small spare tire was forming to create an overhang on his legs, pressing down as it grew. It was a new sensation to the usually-thin dragon.
“Ronden.” Rangavar’s serious tone brought him back out of his thoughts. “What did you do before this started?”
“I ate a cookie,” Ronden blurted. “Nothing else, though. This can’t possibly be from food, I don’t know what’s going on!”
Rangavar slapped his forehead. “Was it one of the cookies on the counter?”
“It… was the last cookie on the counter.” Ronden scowled. “Rangavar, if you know anything about this, you have to tell me.” He leaned back, only to notice that his arms shifted weirdly. When he looked down, a collection of blubber had formed on the undersides of his arms, melding into what looked like the beginning of rolls on his sides. Rolls? He suddenly hugged himself, hyper-aware of how deeply his softening arms sank into the pudge on his front. All of this was impossible. The lard clinging to his frame was thickening all over, his arms squishy, his chest widening with chub. His doughy ass sank farther into the chair with the extra weight and constant softening of his body.
“Those weren’t for you,” Rangavar scowled. “Those were a prank for someone else!”
“A prank?” Ronden said uncertainly. “How?”
“I snuck a magic fattening cookie into a plate of regular cookies that someone else was planning to eat.” Rangavar peered at the now-empty plate where the cookies had been. “I guess they managed to somehow eat every single cookie except that one. Talk about luck.”
Ronden wasn’t feeling very lucky. “Well, if they’re just a prank, then there’s a way to fix it,” he said uncertainly. Anything less would be a pretty mean prank.
Before Rangavar could reply, Ronden heard a groan from the chair beneath him. His blubbery sides had expanded to both armrests, which were now containing the pressure of his growing mass. He realized the effects seemed to be speeding up. He’d essentially doubled in width from his previously average body, his frame swaddled in lard that filled the space around him. Now that he knew it was driven by magic, he had no idea what to expect. A bulge of his belly was growing over the armrests like a rising muffin, his flab beginning to droop over each one.
“The company already designed a potion for this sort of thing,” Rangavar waved a paw dismissively. Ronden had no idea how he could suddenly be so nonchalant. Well, Rangavar wasn’t the one now rapidly piling on pounds, so that was probably it. “It’s in the lab down the hall. I double-checked earlier before leaving the cookie,” Rangavar quickly added.
“Fantastic,” Ronden drew out the word sarcastically. “Let’s go get it.” As far as he was concerned, they didn’t have a moment to spare; he wasn’t sure how the magic worked, but assumed that the larger he got, the more difficult it would be to get him back to normal. He wanted to act fast before he found out the hard way.
Rangavar stood up. When Ronden went to stand, though, he realized he couldn’t find the armrests to push himself up; his sides spilling over the armrests were concealing them from view. When he leaned forward to rock himself from the chair instead, he jerked a few times, surprised to find how pudgy his legs had become beneath the lard piling on his middle. His fattening thighs were contained by the sides of the chair, hardly able to move with the heavy potbelly also trapping them from above. He tried to push fistfulls of flab out of the way to shimmy his way out of the chair, but as his body continued to expand, he realized he was stuck. “Fuck!”
Rangavar suddenly put out his paws. Wordlessly, Ronden took them, surprised by the sight of how pudgy his own had gotten. When Rangavar gripped them, the other dragon’s slender fingers sank deeply into Ronden’s chub, making him hard to hold while he pulled. At the same time, Ronden twisted in the chair, trying to ease his lovehandles out of the armrests’ prison. Every part of him was soft and doughy now, malleable to the touch. He’d never been overweight before, and the feeling was entirely new to him. The soft blubber slowly encompassing his body rippled and shook with his movements. The tubby belly that had developed was continually squeezed by the chair even while Ronden fought to free himself in an increasingly losing battle. The way the lowermost bulge rolled over his lap with each jerking movement only made him more fully aware of how huge he’d already become.
Suddenly, the chair broke. First the armrests were pushed too far apart, then the structural damage took the rest down. Ronden landed on his rump. It was fortunately a well-padded landing, causing his caked-on blubber to jostle, but didn’t do any harm. He immediately tried picking himself up off the floor, although found it difficult to get his legs under him. Since he’d been sitting this whole time, he’d been unaware of how heavy his blubbery body had become. The sprawling gut hanging off his figure weighed over his legs, which themselves were thick and rounded like tree trunks coated in adipose. His fat tail looked short in comparison to his chubby rump, and even his pudgy wings drooped with extra weight.
“Damn. We really need to get you to that lab.”
“You think?!” Ronden shot back. “I feel like I can barely move.” Even after getting back to his feet, putting one leg in front of the other while the chub squeezed past itself put him in an awkward waddle when he tried to step forward. His arms were pushed farther from his sides as well, and he realized that when he tried to look down and see how much worse the damage had gotten, his head was restricted by a wide extra chin. He tried to heft his belly in his arms to get a feel for it instead, but was alarmed to find that the pudgy appendages couldn’t even reach all the way down anymore to grip it. The underside was fully out of reach, with the overhang of his chunky love handles not far behind. “Let’s hurry!”
Despite Ronden’s demand, he took much longer to leave the room than Rangavar, who simply strolled out the door. Each shuffling step Ronden took seemed wider than the last, his pace considerably slow even during the brief distance from the table to the front of the room. When he finally arrived, he was panting. He moved forward the final few steps to the door, only to be unexpectedly halted. He growled at the way his sides bunched up around the door frame, frustrated. He tried turning to the side slightly, but he’d already gotten through too far, and sucking in his stomach didn’t help.
“You know, I’ll just run down and get the potion and bring it back,” Rangavar said quickly.
Ronden glowered at him from the doorway. “You couldn’t have done that five minutes ago?”
“I didn’t… uh, I didn’t think it would get this bad.” He said the last part in a mutter.
Ronden opened his mouth in exasperation. “I thought you planned this out as a prank for someone! You didn’t think about the actual effect?”
Rangavar scowled. “The prank was to get fat, how was I supposed to know it would block a doorway? Now wait here, I’ll go get the potion.”
“Did you really just tell me to wait here?” Ronden gestured to his stuck body and rolled his eyes.
Rangavar flattened his ears, his face flushed with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean—Okay, I’m not wasting more time,” he interrupted himself. He turned and set off at a run down the hall.
Ronden huffed in frustration. Looking down at himself, he saw as well as felt the way that more layers of lard were piling on under his scales. He was becoming increasingly tubby, his body blimping up with adipose that only served to wedge his sides more firmly in the doorway. When he pushed his arms against either side to try dislodging himself, his soft, pillowy gut only bounced and jiggled in front of him, with his sizable hips and rear quivering on the other side. The fattening flesh was too plentiful. Straining his legs did nothing at this point as he became more helpless. Eventually, he felt his drooping gut bulging low enough that his feet increasingly lost touch with the ground. First his heels lifted, then the balls of his feet, until his toes barely brushed the tiles. He was soon practically beached on his belly in addition to already being jammed in the doorway. Even if he weren’t hopelessly stuck at this point, he probably couldn’t have made it down the hall anyway—short of Rangavar rolling him, perhaps. Ronden sighed in defeat.
When Rangavar came back into view, he rushed toward Ronden with a bottle in his paws. It was clear, revealing a dark liquid inside. Rangavar presented it to him slightly out of breath. “Drinking this is supposed to stop the effects.”
Ronden reached forward to take it. “How much?” He suddenly realized that his arms were so coated in lard that they were difficult to lift, and certainly didn’t reach past the scope of his belly.
Rangavar noticed, and leaned in to give it to him. “I’m… not sure,” he said awkwardly.
Ronden gritted his teeth. “Are you serious?”
Rangavar looked him up and down. “I mean, at this rate, maybe it would be best to drink the whole thing.”
That was something that made sense to Ronden. But he wasn’t sure he was so desperate that he wanted to risk poisoning himself. Of course, if he just let himself grow and grow, then his sheer size would make sure any amount of potion wasn’t too much; it would probably only undo part of the damage. Which would still leave him as a cork in the break room door, probably. He realized he didn’t want to risk that fate. He went to open the bottle. He was instantly reminded how much weight he’d gained when he couldn’t bring his paws together to twist the top, the flab of his chest bunching up between them. Rangavar quickly took it from him to help. “Do you want me to just dump the whole thing into your mouth, then?”
“Yeah.” Ronden wanted to distract himself from the way he was blushing at needing his friend to complete the simplest of tasks for him. He opened his jaws, letting the other dragon pour the concoction inside.
It tasted terrible. Ronden managed to gulp it down, but not without making a face.
“How do you feel?”
“I mean, I’ve barely swallowed it,” Ronden choked out, swallowing hard a few extra times to disperse it. “It probably needs a minute. Hopefully not too long.” As he spoke, though, he already felt the steady gurgling in his stomach, that had been muffled by all the flab this whole time, finally begin to calm. Another minute, and the tight, sore spot on his sides where the doorframe was trapping him slowly softened. He breathed a sigh of relief.
“It looks like it’s working,” Rangavar said encouragingly.
Ronden wordlessly nodded. At a certain point, when the door’s grip had loosened considerably, he and Rangavar locked paws again to work on pulling him out. He rocked forward on his belly with each tug, and it was still incredibly wedged, but also malleable enough that when combined with the steady shrinking, they finally managed to squeeze him free. The blue dragon found himself still unable to stand, however, having to wait out the effects while planted firmly on his ass outside the door.
“I’m sorry about all this,” Rangavar suddenly spoke up. He sounded sincere.
Ronden scowled at him from his pile of flab. He still couldn’t do much more than twitch his extremities. “I feel like there’s a lesson to be learned here. Something about not being a dumbass who barely thinks about the consequences they can put on other people.”
Rangavar flattened his ears. “You weren’t supposed to eat the cookie.”
“It would have been worse for the person who was,” Ronden pointed out. “They wouldn’t know where to get the potion.”
“I guess that’s true,” the other dragon finally acknowledged.
It was maybe a minute later that they both realized the steady rippling and wobbling of shrinking pudge had ceased. Ronden was still sat in his blubbery prison, pinned firmly to the floor, and yet his weight seemed to finally stabilize. “What the hell?”
“Maybe the potion wasn’t enough.”
“Can you go get more of it?” Ronden wriggled, testing out his new shape. He was no longer an undefined lump of lard plugging the entire door to the break room and spilling into the hallway, but he was definitely still massive, immobilized in place by layers of his own fat. The thick rolls encircling his legs were pushing them wide apart, enough for his sagging belly to spill forward unhindered, trapping them against the floor. His flabby arms rested on his rounded sides, the blue scales dimpled by the overabundance of extra flab. Every soft fold of his limbs was met by more ripples in the expanse of blubber. The soft curves of his cheeks encroached upon his vision from their position melding into the wide crescent of his second chin, itself merging at some point with his shoulders as well. All in all, he was still far from ‘back to normal’.
“That was it,” Rangavar said awkwardly, looking away. “That was the whole amount.”
“You can’t be serious.” Ronden squirmed again, but was completely helpless in his pile of pudge.
“I’m sure they’ll make more,” Rangavar tried to assure him. “I think shipments to the labs come every two weeks or so. I can tell them to flag it as high-priority.”
“Rangavar! You know that’s not soon enough.” Ronden wriggled again. He tried to lean forward, but only felt the way that his belly squished and rolled forward with him, then rolled back when he stopped straining. He was effectively stuck.
“What exactly do you want me to do?” Rangavar frowned. “I can’t just conjure up more.”
Ronden sighed. Rangavar was right, of course. Not that he felt he had to be happy about it. “Well, I have no idea how I’m going to get home. Or come back here every day, for that matter.”
“You have paid time off.”
Ronden bared some teeth. “Can you be serious for a second?”
“Sorry.” Rangavar put a paw on his chin. “How about I roll you out of the building, you stay with me for a few weeks so I can help you out, and you can ask our boss to work from home? I’m not rolling you back to work every day,” he clarified. “I know I really owe you, but I don’t think that would be fun for either of us.”
Ronden had to admit that he didn’t have many options. Immobilized by his own blubber, he’d need someone taking care of him. And he certainly couldn’t travel. He sighed, resigned. “Okay.”
Sitting swaddled in soft lard, he told himself that it would just be a new experience. That didn’t mean it had to be a bad one. As he felt ripples travel through the adipose with every small movement, he began to relax. He wasn’t actually in any discomfort, other than the inconvenience. But he already had someone to help with that; the rest would be taken care of. Maybe it would even be… nice, to have someone do everything for him. At least until he got out of this mess.
“I’m really sorry about this,” Rangavar said earnestly.
“I’ll accept your apology…” Ronden thought about the way Rangavar’s life was about to change for the next few weeks, too; taking care of his immobilized form would mean doing everything for him that he couldn’t do himself, including eating, holding a TV remote, or even rubbing his own belly. The thought of Rangavar running back and forth to the kitchen bringing him snacks with brief breaks for belly massages was almost enough to make Ronden blush. “…but I’m going to make you work for it.”
Silly short story featuring magic and a sorely-underused OC
Ronden wasn’t a huge fan of sweets. Still, the extra cookie on the counter of the break room tempted him. When was the last time he’d had a cookie? The blue dragon honestly didn’t know, although he remembered enjoying them more than other baked goods. He eyed the cookie and wondered if maybe he deserved to treat himself. He’d been working so hard lately, surely a snack wouldn’t hurt?
The lithe dragon went over to the plate where it had been forgotten, the rest of the surface covered in crumbs where other cookies once lay waiting to be eaten. Why had this one been left behind? He wondered if he should be suspicious, but couldn’t think of any reason to be suspicious of a cookie. All he could think was that maybe it was stale? It looked perfectly normal to him. He took a bite, the gooey chocolate chips accentuating the sweetness. He felt a small smile on his muzzle as he ran his tongue over the flavor lingering on his teeth.
It was only a minute or two later that his stomach gurgled, although he didn’t feel particularly hungry. He put his paws over the pale stripe on his slender midsection in confusion.
The door to the break room suddenly opened. Another dragon strolled in, covered in dark gray scales, his head topped by jagged black horns. He looked over casually. “Hey, Ronden.”
The corner of Ronden’s mouth quirked up. “Hey Rangavar.” Before he could say anything more, though, his stomach let out another loud gurgle.
Rangavar snorted. “Did you forget your lunch again?” He casually took a seat at the same table where Ronden was sitting. He didn’t seem to have his own lunch, but often the employees just took breaks whenever they got the chance.
“Yeah…” Ronden said, staring at his midsection uncertainly. Even though he hadn’t eaten anything, he realized that he was beginning to feel a bit bloated. His tum seemed a little swollen. That cookie didn’t seem to be agreeing with him.
Rangavar finally took notice of Ronden’s attention on his midsection, and frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t feel very good,” Ronden said vaguely. He didn’t exactly feel bad, though, either. Just that something was off.
“Sounds like an excuse to go home early,” Rangavar smirked. His smile faded though as he continued to watch Ronden’s midsection. “Are… are you actually okay?”
Ronden didn’t know how to respond. He put his paws on his belly, which he could now tell was definitely swollen, not just in his imagination. His fingers sank in slightly, though; it wasn’t firm like he was stuffed. Instead, when he pressed down, the scaly flesh gave way easily. After inspecting himself a moment, he suddenly picked up his paws, noticing that they seemed a bit puffier as well. His usually-slender fingers were thicker than they had been several minutes ago. “What’s going on?” he stammered.
Rangavar peered at him curiously. “If you feel sick, you actually should go home.”
“No, I feel—I feel fine.” It was technically true; he wasn’t in any discomfort. “But I’m blimping up!” He gripped at his flat midsection again, only to feel that it definitely wasn’t flat now. A layer of squish had expanded over it. He realized it wasn’t just his belly, though. Looking past it at his thighs, they seemed a bit wider than they were before, and more of his rump appeared to be covering the chair. It was like he was getting fatter, somehow. Not that that made any sense.
Rangavar seemed to notice the outward effects for the first time, his eyes roving over Ronden’s slowly expanding body. Instead of curious, though, he immediately looked alarmed. “What did you eat?!”
Ronden paused for a moment. It hadn’t been the question he was expecting. He couldn’t concentrate as he was distracted by a strange feeling creeping across his lap, though, and looked down to see that enough of a small spare tire was forming to create an overhang on his legs, pressing down as it grew. It was a new sensation to the usually-thin dragon.
“Ronden.” Rangavar’s serious tone brought him back out of his thoughts. “What did you do before this started?”
“I ate a cookie,” Ronden blurted. “Nothing else, though. This can’t possibly be from food, I don’t know what’s going on!”
Rangavar slapped his forehead. “Was it one of the cookies on the counter?”
“It… was the last cookie on the counter.” Ronden scowled. “Rangavar, if you know anything about this, you have to tell me.” He leaned back, only to notice that his arms shifted weirdly. When he looked down, a collection of blubber had formed on the undersides of his arms, melding into what looked like the beginning of rolls on his sides. Rolls? He suddenly hugged himself, hyper-aware of how deeply his softening arms sank into the pudge on his front. All of this was impossible. The lard clinging to his frame was thickening all over, his arms squishy, his chest widening with chub. His doughy ass sank farther into the chair with the extra weight and constant softening of his body.
“Those weren’t for you,” Rangavar scowled. “Those were a prank for someone else!”
“A prank?” Ronden said uncertainly. “How?”
“I snuck a magic fattening cookie into a plate of regular cookies that someone else was planning to eat.” Rangavar peered at the now-empty plate where the cookies had been. “I guess they managed to somehow eat every single cookie except that one. Talk about luck.”
Ronden wasn’t feeling very lucky. “Well, if they’re just a prank, then there’s a way to fix it,” he said uncertainly. Anything less would be a pretty mean prank.
Before Rangavar could reply, Ronden heard a groan from the chair beneath him. His blubbery sides had expanded to both armrests, which were now containing the pressure of his growing mass. He realized the effects seemed to be speeding up. He’d essentially doubled in width from his previously average body, his frame swaddled in lard that filled the space around him. Now that he knew it was driven by magic, he had no idea what to expect. A bulge of his belly was growing over the armrests like a rising muffin, his flab beginning to droop over each one.
“The company already designed a potion for this sort of thing,” Rangavar waved a paw dismissively. Ronden had no idea how he could suddenly be so nonchalant. Well, Rangavar wasn’t the one now rapidly piling on pounds, so that was probably it. “It’s in the lab down the hall. I double-checked earlier before leaving the cookie,” Rangavar quickly added.
“Fantastic,” Ronden drew out the word sarcastically. “Let’s go get it.” As far as he was concerned, they didn’t have a moment to spare; he wasn’t sure how the magic worked, but assumed that the larger he got, the more difficult it would be to get him back to normal. He wanted to act fast before he found out the hard way.
Rangavar stood up. When Ronden went to stand, though, he realized he couldn’t find the armrests to push himself up; his sides spilling over the armrests were concealing them from view. When he leaned forward to rock himself from the chair instead, he jerked a few times, surprised to find how pudgy his legs had become beneath the lard piling on his middle. His fattening thighs were contained by the sides of the chair, hardly able to move with the heavy potbelly also trapping them from above. He tried to push fistfulls of flab out of the way to shimmy his way out of the chair, but as his body continued to expand, he realized he was stuck. “Fuck!”
Rangavar suddenly put out his paws. Wordlessly, Ronden took them, surprised by the sight of how pudgy his own had gotten. When Rangavar gripped them, the other dragon’s slender fingers sank deeply into Ronden’s chub, making him hard to hold while he pulled. At the same time, Ronden twisted in the chair, trying to ease his lovehandles out of the armrests’ prison. Every part of him was soft and doughy now, malleable to the touch. He’d never been overweight before, and the feeling was entirely new to him. The soft blubber slowly encompassing his body rippled and shook with his movements. The tubby belly that had developed was continually squeezed by the chair even while Ronden fought to free himself in an increasingly losing battle. The way the lowermost bulge rolled over his lap with each jerking movement only made him more fully aware of how huge he’d already become.
Suddenly, the chair broke. First the armrests were pushed too far apart, then the structural damage took the rest down. Ronden landed on his rump. It was fortunately a well-padded landing, causing his caked-on blubber to jostle, but didn’t do any harm. He immediately tried picking himself up off the floor, although found it difficult to get his legs under him. Since he’d been sitting this whole time, he’d been unaware of how heavy his blubbery body had become. The sprawling gut hanging off his figure weighed over his legs, which themselves were thick and rounded like tree trunks coated in adipose. His fat tail looked short in comparison to his chubby rump, and even his pudgy wings drooped with extra weight.
“Damn. We really need to get you to that lab.”
“You think?!” Ronden shot back. “I feel like I can barely move.” Even after getting back to his feet, putting one leg in front of the other while the chub squeezed past itself put him in an awkward waddle when he tried to step forward. His arms were pushed farther from his sides as well, and he realized that when he tried to look down and see how much worse the damage had gotten, his head was restricted by a wide extra chin. He tried to heft his belly in his arms to get a feel for it instead, but was alarmed to find that the pudgy appendages couldn’t even reach all the way down anymore to grip it. The underside was fully out of reach, with the overhang of his chunky love handles not far behind. “Let’s hurry!”
Despite Ronden’s demand, he took much longer to leave the room than Rangavar, who simply strolled out the door. Each shuffling step Ronden took seemed wider than the last, his pace considerably slow even during the brief distance from the table to the front of the room. When he finally arrived, he was panting. He moved forward the final few steps to the door, only to be unexpectedly halted. He growled at the way his sides bunched up around the door frame, frustrated. He tried turning to the side slightly, but he’d already gotten through too far, and sucking in his stomach didn’t help.
“You know, I’ll just run down and get the potion and bring it back,” Rangavar said quickly.
Ronden glowered at him from the doorway. “You couldn’t have done that five minutes ago?”
“I didn’t… uh, I didn’t think it would get this bad.” He said the last part in a mutter.
Ronden opened his mouth in exasperation. “I thought you planned this out as a prank for someone! You didn’t think about the actual effect?”
Rangavar scowled. “The prank was to get fat, how was I supposed to know it would block a doorway? Now wait here, I’ll go get the potion.”
“Did you really just tell me to wait here?” Ronden gestured to his stuck body and rolled his eyes.
Rangavar flattened his ears, his face flushed with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean—Okay, I’m not wasting more time,” he interrupted himself. He turned and set off at a run down the hall.
Ronden huffed in frustration. Looking down at himself, he saw as well as felt the way that more layers of lard were piling on under his scales. He was becoming increasingly tubby, his body blimping up with adipose that only served to wedge his sides more firmly in the doorway. When he pushed his arms against either side to try dislodging himself, his soft, pillowy gut only bounced and jiggled in front of him, with his sizable hips and rear quivering on the other side. The fattening flesh was too plentiful. Straining his legs did nothing at this point as he became more helpless. Eventually, he felt his drooping gut bulging low enough that his feet increasingly lost touch with the ground. First his heels lifted, then the balls of his feet, until his toes barely brushed the tiles. He was soon practically beached on his belly in addition to already being jammed in the doorway. Even if he weren’t hopelessly stuck at this point, he probably couldn’t have made it down the hall anyway—short of Rangavar rolling him, perhaps. Ronden sighed in defeat.
When Rangavar came back into view, he rushed toward Ronden with a bottle in his paws. It was clear, revealing a dark liquid inside. Rangavar presented it to him slightly out of breath. “Drinking this is supposed to stop the effects.”
Ronden reached forward to take it. “How much?” He suddenly realized that his arms were so coated in lard that they were difficult to lift, and certainly didn’t reach past the scope of his belly.
Rangavar noticed, and leaned in to give it to him. “I’m… not sure,” he said awkwardly.
Ronden gritted his teeth. “Are you serious?”
Rangavar looked him up and down. “I mean, at this rate, maybe it would be best to drink the whole thing.”
That was something that made sense to Ronden. But he wasn’t sure he was so desperate that he wanted to risk poisoning himself. Of course, if he just let himself grow and grow, then his sheer size would make sure any amount of potion wasn’t too much; it would probably only undo part of the damage. Which would still leave him as a cork in the break room door, probably. He realized he didn’t want to risk that fate. He went to open the bottle. He was instantly reminded how much weight he’d gained when he couldn’t bring his paws together to twist the top, the flab of his chest bunching up between them. Rangavar quickly took it from him to help. “Do you want me to just dump the whole thing into your mouth, then?”
“Yeah.” Ronden wanted to distract himself from the way he was blushing at needing his friend to complete the simplest of tasks for him. He opened his jaws, letting the other dragon pour the concoction inside.
It tasted terrible. Ronden managed to gulp it down, but not without making a face.
“How do you feel?”
“I mean, I’ve barely swallowed it,” Ronden choked out, swallowing hard a few extra times to disperse it. “It probably needs a minute. Hopefully not too long.” As he spoke, though, he already felt the steady gurgling in his stomach, that had been muffled by all the flab this whole time, finally begin to calm. Another minute, and the tight, sore spot on his sides where the doorframe was trapping him slowly softened. He breathed a sigh of relief.
“It looks like it’s working,” Rangavar said encouragingly.
Ronden wordlessly nodded. At a certain point, when the door’s grip had loosened considerably, he and Rangavar locked paws again to work on pulling him out. He rocked forward on his belly with each tug, and it was still incredibly wedged, but also malleable enough that when combined with the steady shrinking, they finally managed to squeeze him free. The blue dragon found himself still unable to stand, however, having to wait out the effects while planted firmly on his ass outside the door.
“I’m sorry about all this,” Rangavar suddenly spoke up. He sounded sincere.
Ronden scowled at him from his pile of flab. He still couldn’t do much more than twitch his extremities. “I feel like there’s a lesson to be learned here. Something about not being a dumbass who barely thinks about the consequences they can put on other people.”
Rangavar flattened his ears. “You weren’t supposed to eat the cookie.”
“It would have been worse for the person who was,” Ronden pointed out. “They wouldn’t know where to get the potion.”
“I guess that’s true,” the other dragon finally acknowledged.
It was maybe a minute later that they both realized the steady rippling and wobbling of shrinking pudge had ceased. Ronden was still sat in his blubbery prison, pinned firmly to the floor, and yet his weight seemed to finally stabilize. “What the hell?”
“Maybe the potion wasn’t enough.”
“Can you go get more of it?” Ronden wriggled, testing out his new shape. He was no longer an undefined lump of lard plugging the entire door to the break room and spilling into the hallway, but he was definitely still massive, immobilized in place by layers of his own fat. The thick rolls encircling his legs were pushing them wide apart, enough for his sagging belly to spill forward unhindered, trapping them against the floor. His flabby arms rested on his rounded sides, the blue scales dimpled by the overabundance of extra flab. Every soft fold of his limbs was met by more ripples in the expanse of blubber. The soft curves of his cheeks encroached upon his vision from their position melding into the wide crescent of his second chin, itself merging at some point with his shoulders as well. All in all, he was still far from ‘back to normal’.
“That was it,” Rangavar said awkwardly, looking away. “That was the whole amount.”
“You can’t be serious.” Ronden squirmed again, but was completely helpless in his pile of pudge.
“I’m sure they’ll make more,” Rangavar tried to assure him. “I think shipments to the labs come every two weeks or so. I can tell them to flag it as high-priority.”
“Rangavar! You know that’s not soon enough.” Ronden wriggled again. He tried to lean forward, but only felt the way that his belly squished and rolled forward with him, then rolled back when he stopped straining. He was effectively stuck.
“What exactly do you want me to do?” Rangavar frowned. “I can’t just conjure up more.”
Ronden sighed. Rangavar was right, of course. Not that he felt he had to be happy about it. “Well, I have no idea how I’m going to get home. Or come back here every day, for that matter.”
“You have paid time off.”
Ronden bared some teeth. “Can you be serious for a second?”
“Sorry.” Rangavar put a paw on his chin. “How about I roll you out of the building, you stay with me for a few weeks so I can help you out, and you can ask our boss to work from home? I’m not rolling you back to work every day,” he clarified. “I know I really owe you, but I don’t think that would be fun for either of us.”
Ronden had to admit that he didn’t have many options. Immobilized by his own blubber, he’d need someone taking care of him. And he certainly couldn’t travel. He sighed, resigned. “Okay.”
Sitting swaddled in soft lard, he told himself that it would just be a new experience. That didn’t mean it had to be a bad one. As he felt ripples travel through the adipose with every small movement, he began to relax. He wasn’t actually in any discomfort, other than the inconvenience. But he already had someone to help with that; the rest would be taken care of. Maybe it would even be… nice, to have someone do everything for him. At least until he got out of this mess.
“I’m really sorry about this,” Rangavar said earnestly.
“I’ll accept your apology…” Ronden thought about the way Rangavar’s life was about to change for the next few weeks, too; taking care of his immobilized form would mean doing everything for him that he couldn’t do himself, including eating, holding a TV remote, or even rubbing his own belly. The thought of Rangavar running back and forth to the kitchen bringing him snacks with brief breaks for belly massages was almost enough to make Ronden blush. “…but I’m going to make you work for it.”
Category Story / Fat Furs
Species Dragon (Other)
Gender Male
Size 120 x 120px
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